Not long ago (how long was that? Time seems to fall away from me like water through a sieve) I sold my house. During that time I basically liquidated my life - sorted through my belongings and packed only the most sentimental and precious of items and sold the rest. Drove some stuff to a warehouse in Chicago to be shipped to the UK. Sold my car. Found a home for one of my cats. Sadly, the other cat became very ill and had to be put down. While I was in Alaska visiting my family. I moved in with a friend for a short while. Flew to Delaware to visit more family. Spent time in Iowa with family again. Had a party in Illinois to celebrate with my friends. All of this took place in the span of about a month. Oh yea, I forgot to mention that before all of this I lost my job - a bitter sweet story that I'll save for another time. Point is - it was whirlwind.
Flashforward now - I've been in England for over a month now (has it really been that long?). Before I got here I speculated how I would adjust; I suspected I would probably suffer from a bit of homesickness but would largely handle it pretty well considered the number of long distance moves I've made in my life. And for the most part my suspicions are correct. What I didn't expect was to feel what I do. Bear with me while I explain (it's a circuitous route, but a necessary one).
I'm not a big TV watcher, but I do enoy a few shows and there's only one that I've been sure to watch almost religiously (about as religiously as I do anything anyway), and that's Lost. Now, I'm not a zealot - I don't spend time online reading theory blogs or anything like that. And I tend to watch the episodes online after they've aired on TV (mostly because I've been without a TV for ages). Still, I watched every episode and love it tremendously. I realize I'm rambling so let me get to the point. The last episode was pretty freaky to me because that's when the whole gang realized that they were dead. The mystery that remains as to when they died. (I've been watching the show for years and it's quite possible they died way back in episode 1 for crying out loud! Anyway, not important.) And this brings me to my point. Watching that last episode resounded with me in a big way; since arriving on this island (one that does exist and that people find on purpose everyday, and to my knowledge has not been moved) I've felt a bit out of sorts. Not like jet lag out of sorts. More like I'm stuck in a dream out of sorts. Nothing feels real. I carry out my day as you could imagine - I get up, eat my breakfast, take the dog for a walk, do work on the house, go to my volunteer job, eat lunch, eat dinner, go to bed and get up the next day to do the same thing. All very real things. Maybe it's the accents or the driving on the left side of the road - I don't know - but I never really feel connected. And after watching that last episode of Lost it was like Desmond gave me a near-death experience and I had a eureka! moment of my own - what if I'm dead? What if, on any one of the many times I was in an airplane over the past couple of months, the plane crashed? I do remember there was a LOT of turbulence on one of the flights...which one? I can't remember. And you know, before coming out here I felt like it was all too surreal. Like it was all too good to be true, you know? And I was so sure something bad was going to happen to prevent me from going. I was sure I was going to die. Or at least be horrible maimed. So what if I'm here now and the reason I feel so disconnected and have been suffering a case of homesickness more severe than anything I've ever suffered before is because I'm having my own flashbacks; maybe this is where I've allowed my spirit to explore before I fall into the light? Maybe this is my afterlife. And it's totally cool that I've chosen to spend it with my soulmate. I think this must be more like pergatory though; it's too nice to be hell but it can't be heaven...the weatherheaven, I'm sure the weather would be a bit more pleasant.